Tales of the Samurai
by EvermooreNoir
Summary: Saw the final episode of Samurai Jack and it practically stabbed me in the heart, so I came up with this epilogue story as a therapeutic way to help me deal with my jumbled, confused feelings. Spoiler alert for fellow fans: there're some details in here that could give away the ending, so if you haven't seen the last episode yet, DON'T read this one, just in case.


Tales of the Samurai

" _Long ago in a distant land, the demon Aku, shape shifting master of darkness, unleashed an unspeakable evil. But a brave samurai warrior, wielding a magic sword, stepped forth to oppose him. Before the final blow was struck, the demon tore open a portal in time and flung him into the future, where Aku's evil was law. For many years the samurai journeyed through a strange and hostile land, seeking to return to the past and vanquish the evil that was Aku…"_

These words echoed through my mind, on that distant spring afternoon, as I crouched beneath the cherry blossoms and built a castle made of leaves and sticks. Once the last few sticks were in place, and I was satisfied with my work, I sat up straight and gazed up toward the sapphire blue sky. Listening to the choir of birds high over head, I wondered once more if the stories Father told us every night were true.

"Don't be so foolish," big brother would often scold, folding his arms into the sleeves of his bright blue gi whenever I asked him.

"Of course they're not true," he would chide rolling his eyes in annoyance, "They're just fairy tales to help you sleep at night, and nothing more."

But despite my brother's assertions, I was never so sure. I shifted in my spot beneath the trees, careful not to dirty my new, pink kimono, and felt the cool blades of grass prickle my legs gently once I felt more comfortable. The way Father recited his stories, with such cadence and passion, it was impossible to deny that there was ever a shred of truth behind them. After all, everyone remembered the days of Aku, now long since past.

I glanced up at the sky once more before scanning the surrounding field very slowly; squinting my eyes slightly as I tried to image those dark days before my brother and I were even born. Grandmother detailed them impeccably, and in my child's eye I could practically see the devastation that was wrought upon our home – the valleys and forests where my brother and I played, I could see them decimated to an endless field of ash, the precious earth all around scorched to an unrecognizable black. I could make out the village nearby, and the beautiful towering palace of the royal family, reduced to a miniature mountain range of crumbling stone; all demolished by Aku's uncaring hand. And the people – oh, it was this thought alone that made me shudder, as an icy realization spread stealthy through my core. Yes, there had been many people, many innocence, who had suffered greatly from Aku's tyranny. To this day I still do not know how many were lost in those years, and I doubt any of us will ever truly know.

At that moment a squirrel darted through the trees, shaking the branches and showering me with a cascade of soft, pink blossoms. It startled me for a moment as it scurried past my feet before it stopped and gazed up at me with shining black eyes. We regarded each other for the moment, before it fled in search of its next meal. Once it vanished from view, I smiled to myself and started collecting the tiny flowers all around me. As I retrieved a few that had nestled on my silky, black hair, my hand grazed the side of one of my twin buns, and I instantly remembered the story of the Samurai and the Haunted House. When I started wearing my hair in this new style, Father told me it reminded him of the girl from the story and recounted the tale to me. At first I was scared by the story, as Father told of how the Samurai came across a sad little girl and her decrypted family home where her parents and brother were taken hostage by evil spirits. But this story had a happy ending, as the brave Samurai defeated the evil spirits and freed the young girl's family.

I finished collecting the cherry blossoms and set them neatly in a pile on my lap. I thought for a moment before finally deciding what to do with them, and began weaving them into a chain. As I braided and tied, I thought of another story Father liked to tell:

One day, while the brave Samurai traveled in search of a way home, he came across a wild grove of peaches and not from it, a cave where hungry ogres were preparing to devour a frightened baby! The Samurai sprang into action and rescued the child from the monsters, and set out right away to find the child's parents. As he and his young companion searched, the Samurai recounted the tale of "Peach Boy" before they were attacked by the Ogres once more. The Samurai successfully dispatched the creatures and was able to return the baby to his rightful mother and father. I always liked that one the most, if only because it featured "Peach Boy," a story that Grandmother liked to tell me and Big Brother.

I became so engrossed with my work that I failed to notice the sun was starting to set and it was almost time to return home before Mother started to worry. With each blossom I added to the chain another story drifted into my thoughts, another challenge the young Samurai needed to face in order to vanquish Aku. At one point I frowned and furrowed my brow tightly when the more – far-fetched- stories entered my mind. The tales of flying chariots that never required horses or buildings made of glass tall enough to reach the sky; of peaceful, furry creatures that 'Jump Good' and of giant black beetles made of metal and blades; the tales of something called a 'rocket' that soared beyond the heavens, and of dogs that could talk and walk upright like men. These were the stories I could not comprehend, and in a way still cannot to this day. And it was because of these tales, Big Brother was certain they couldn't be true.

"Father, that can't be right!" he would sometimes exclaim, his black, piercing eyes quizzical and confused, "Surely you're just exaggerating?" But Father would always smile kindly and continue with his story, as if he weren't surprised that we didn't believe him. Well… that Big Brother didn't believe him, at least. As for me, I was never entirely sure what to believe – until that day by the cherry blossom trees.

As I finished off the chain and started to join the ends together, I thought of the most recent, and shocking, story I heard Father tell. The day before, as we walked across the bridge and gazed down at the stream below, a cute little ladybug buzzed past my ear. I let it rest on my finger and beamed as I reached it up to show Father what I had caught. He smiled at first and watched the ladybug flutter off my hand and hover close by. But suddenly his smile faded as he reached out and let the insect drift down onto his own extended finger. It paused there for a moment, apparently needing a longer rest, before taking off once more and floating serenely away. I watched Father as he watched the ladybug disappear, and couldn't help but feel puzzled by his sudden change in mood. Puzzled, and a little worried. We stood in silence for a moment, before he recounted this newest story:

There once was a beautiful and kind young girl that the Samurai met near the end of his journey. Having quested for many years with no end in sight, the Samurai lost hope and found it once more in this young woman, in the most unlikely way. For this girl had been raised by the Daughter's of Aku, a troubled cult dedicated to worshiping Aku as their master, and she had been raised with her sisters for one purpose alone: to kill the Samurai, Aku's mortal enemy. They fought each other fiercely, the Samurai and this Assassin, until ultimately the girl realized the truth about Aku and set forth to forge her own path. She stood alongside the Samurai and vowed to help him defeat Aku once and for all, and together, they did just that.

At this point in the story, Father paused and seemed distant, as if he was looking back into a memory long since forgotten – or rather, long since remembered. Curious, I asked him what happened next: did the Samurai and the girl ever marry? Sadly, he said, it was not meant to be. For on the very day of their wedding, the girl and the Samurai realized that were it not for Aku, she the girl, the Samurai's love, would never have existed in the first place. And therefore, could never exist. Confused, I told my father I didn't understand, and he thought for a moment before simply replying that it was just not meant to be. I sensed that there was more to this tale than Father would tell me, but knew better than to pry. Especially because of how sad he looked.

Then, quite suddenly, he gazed down at me and caught sight of my worried eyes. He smiled very gently, and knelt down, placing his hands on my shoulders tenderly.

"Do you know why I tell you this?" he asked me very calmly. I shook my head and said that I didn't.

"Because it is a tale that is a part of me," he replied, "And because of this, it is a part of you. I know you don't understand right now, but some day you will. I promise." At the time I still wasn't sure what he meant, but I smiled very shyly anyway and agreed that I would. With that he rose to his feet once more and we started on our way home again.

As I made the last knot on my wreath of cherry blossoms, I realized that Father's story of the Assassin-girl, the would-be bride of the brave Samurai, sounded awfully familiar – as Father himself had been engaged to another before my mother, but she was unfortunately lost… and on the day of their wedding. I held the wreath in my hands very stiffly, completely forgetting them for that one moment, as I realized that my father's stories were indeed true: that the legendary Samurai had in fact lived, despite the doubts of Big Brother; despite my own.

I willed myself to return to reality, as the slowly descending sun caught my eye. I carefully placed the crown of blossoms on my head, fitting them perfectly around my buns. As I rose to my feet and began to smooth my kimono, a voice called out from the hilltop just behind me:

"Ashi,"

I spun around and saw my father, his black hair, with strands beginning to gray, pulled back into a high knot, and his clean black vest, marked with the Emperor's seal, hanging officiously over his long, white gi. His sword – the sword from legend – was sheathed and hung naturally from his belt.

"Coming, father!" I called as I smiled at him warmly.

Once I had rejoined him, we made our way back to the palace, where Mother, Big Brother, and Grandmother waited for us. It was many years later when I heard more of the Assassin-girl, my namesake, and of how she rescued the Samurai when he became lost in his quest. But on that day, on that evening, I knew none of it and only desired to return home to hear more of father's stories; desiring the truth that lay in each and every one of them…

Hungry for the Tales of Samurai Jack…

* * *

 _So here is the epilogue I wish they would have done for the series. I still have some mixed feelings about the finale, mostly because the way Ashi was erased from existence. I mean, seriously, on their wedding day!? What The Hell! I know I'm not allowed to be shocked by it generally speaking, but that alone was like the biggest, coldest, punch to the gut I've ever gotten from watching a cartoon! I was left so stunned by it I had a hard time sleeping and came up with this story as a coping mechanism to deal with my jumbled bag of emotions. What bothered me the most was that even though Jack's story ended in victory, his and Ashi's together never really got the closure it deserved._

 _But I'll be honest, I never expected this story to get as much positive feedback as it has; thank you so much to everyone who's liked it and written reviews. I really appreciate it and am so glad that you enjoyed it, and can't wait to read more of yours!_

 _Happy reading (and writing) ya'll! :)_

 _\- EvNoir_


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